Reeling
by ALlamarama
Summary: He watches because he can't stand not to.
1. Chapter 1

**This story takes place after Thor but before the Avengers, and assumes Thor: The Dark World never existed.**

**Excuse me while I indulge my other great villain love, the ever-amazing Loki of Asgard.**

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The first time he sees her is through Heimdall's golden eyes, and he is entranced.

She moves heavily, clopping around in big boots with about as much grace as a newborn foal. Her clothing is neither stylish nor flattering. She wears no makeup and her hair hangs in unruly strings around her face, occasionally getting caught in her mouth as the wind whips it around. She is utterly ordinary; yet she is so beautiful he cannot look away.

As he watches, his _brother_ raises her hand to his lips and kisses it. She smiles, blushes, and his anger peaks out of nowhere. He wrenches his eyes away and stalks back toward Asgard, reeling.

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He watches her all the time, now. His role as acting King has its perks, and he uses the extra senses to track her every movement. He watches her working, eating and sleeping. His focus is so intense that his subjects often enter the throne room and are unable to gain his attention. He could care less. The simpletons of Asgard can look after themselves, he wagers.

Soon he is visiting her, invisible to her world. He stands by her, drinking in her scent, drowning in her presence. It is as though she has invaded his bloodstream, so enraptured is he.

The night she falls asleep on the rooptop with Thor, he stands beside her and invisibly seethes.

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When Thor returns, he is so furious he can taste it. He _saw_. Watched them kissing, clinging to each other as though they were bound that way. His great and noble _brother_, stealing what he needs to be his _again_.

Vengeance is like a cold iron weight in his heart.

When they fight, he feels so very _alive_. His focus is total, heart beating erratically as he trades blows, creating illusions and maneuvering smoothly with skill that is second nature to him. His anger only fuels him further as he battles harder than he ever has before. This is no brotherly sport; Thor seeks to incapacitate him and he seeks to kill.

But when Thor begins to destroy the bridge, he loses control. He screams at his brother, appealing to his feelings for her, and all he really wants to shout is _don't, I can't stand it, I'll never be able to see her again either_ but he can't say that, can he?

Later, when he hangs from what's left of the bridge, held only by his own hand, Loki chooses to let go because he'd rather float through space for eternity than be trapped in Asgard without her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for your comments! Just so you know, this is only a two shot. Here's part 2. Have fun!**

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Three months after Thor leaves, he comes for her.

At first, it's an uncomfortable prickling feeling. She feels as though someone is watching her constantly. Often she turns, expecting to find someone behind her, but there is no one. Just air and the lab and her heart twisting as the days stretch out and still Thor does not return for her.

And then one night, she turns and there actually is someone.

He is immaculate in black, green and gold. The weak light of her desk lamp shines on his armour and reflects in strips of golden light from his helmet, topped with a wicked pair of curved horns. Black hair peeks out from under the helmet and reaches nearly to his shoulders, curling at the ends. He stands tall and proud, holding himself with an imperial air, and instinctively she knows who this is.

"Are you Loki?"

He looks right into her eyes and it's as though he's looking straight into her soul. "I am."

"Did Thor send you?"

His face twists, and she senses that Loki would rather not talk about his mighty brother. "He did not", he replies, his lip curling. "Thor is in Asgard, busy with the burdens and glories his role as King bestows upon him."

Just like that, she is furious. The wall she'd built to protect herself from her own thoughts comes crashing down, and she is so _angry_ she can't speak for a moment. It's happened then, it's real. Thor will not be returning for her – he doesn't care, after all.

She snaps.

Grabs the desk lamp, hurls it to the floor. Plunges them into darkness. Then, the absence of light hiding her, she sinks to the floor and cries. He doesn't move, just stands there while her heart liquefies, pours out of her body and runs down her face in streams.

When she is done, she rasps "Why are you here?"

"They cast me out."

"What?" It doesn't make sense to her. The way Thor spoke about Loki gave him away. Thor loved his wayward brother.

"Thor. Odin. They broke the Asbru Bridge. Then they threw me off it, into the abyss." He is quiet, somber in tone. There is no hint of mischief, no telltale sign of a lie.

She believes him, and she is shocked but still so _angry._

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They sit at the little kitchen table, and she makes him a coffee. He doesn't enjoy it until she adds four teaspoons of sugar. Then he downs it in less than three seconds.

While they drink, they talk. She tells him about her work and he listens with interest, although sometimes she gets the feeling his mind is partially on other things. He tells her about Asgard as he knows it, and she feels so sorry for him as he describes his childhood years – an outcast, always; never quite fitting in with those whose skill lies in weaponry rather than the magics.

As she listens, she finds herself paying more attention to the lilt of his voice, the hard edges of his words. She looks at his face, his clothes, his build, and can't help but wonder how two brothers from the same family can be so different. Both so handsome, but in completely converse ways. Thor is all brawn and chiseled jaw; Loki is leaner, his features finer, and he reminds her of ice and sharp edges. And still they sit there, sometimes lapsing into silence but never awkwardness.

He refuses to take the helmet off, even though she offers to take it many times.

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It is in the early hours of the morning that Loki finally stands, leaving his mug on the table. She stands, too, and steps towards him.

"Where will you go now?"

He frowns. "I do not know."

He looks down at her, and suddenly it is all too obvious how close to each other they stand. When their eyes meet, she sees a shadow cross his features, so fast she wonders whether she imagined it. Then he leans down, and she can hear the individual beats of her heart. She lays her hands on either side of his head, the helmet cool under her fingers.

They kiss until neither can breathe anymore.

Loki breaks them apart, gasping; his focus on her is so intense she feels the heat rising in her cheeks. Then he scoops her up as if she weighs nothing and carries her up the stairs, onto the roof. There is a green glow to her left and she swivels her head to look. It's the sun lounge – Loki has changed it into a large, soft bed. He lays her down on it. He bends and kisses her, then pulls off her boots and socks. He unbuttons her flannel shirt and she does not move to stop him. He continues until she is naked, then turns her over on the bed. She hears the creaking of leathers and feels him behind her, pulling her back into his lap and upright to press against him.

As they move together, she glances up and she can just see the tips of those crazy horns sticking out from behind her head.

After they have dressed, she stands in front of him, looks up at him, and she thinks she sees that shadowy look again. He looks down at her and there is a hard edge to his gaze now.

Jane never sees the dagger coming.

Instead, she feels a searing, slicing pain under her ribcage, hot liquid running down her stomach. She looks up and into his eyes again, sees the anger and pain and sadness there.

Then she feels nothing at all.

**Fin.**


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